


Disgusting

by Marks



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-18
Updated: 2006-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It kind of disgusts him how easily he gets off on this. But he does anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disgusting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle I, set after HBP.

It kind of disgusts him how easily he gets off on this: How one wrist pinned against a wall makes him groan, how one knee insinuated between his thighs makes him buck up, how the buzzing tension that surrounds them won't go away until he's jerking, helpless, into Potter's hand.

And then it starts all over again.

When he goes before the Dark Lord, this is always, always what he thinks about right before he closes his mind: He can see Potter go to his knees, he can see the way Potter smirks up at him before parting his robes and undoing his flies, he can see Potter's mouth, obscene and wet and red, stretched wide over his cock as Potter licks and sucks and undoes him like nothing's ever undone him before. Like he's never let anything undo him.

And then his shields are up, and he's a Death Eater again.

Sometimes, in the jittery-nervous seconds before Potter meets him, he thinks about what it would be like to have more time. Now, they exchange information, exchange parchment timed to self-destruct, exchange orgasms, and then Potter's gone until it's time to do it all over again. He thinks about what it would be like to have Potter in a bed: What Potter would look like on his back, what Potter's legs would feel like wrapped around his waist, what Potter would feel like _inside_, hot and tight, surrendering. What Potter would look like as he slept.

And that disgusts him, too.

Harry strokes him, slow and slick, wrist twisting, repeating repeating repeating, _oh_, Potter's swollen lips pressed against his jaw and chin and throat, whispering, "Come on, come on, come for me, Draco, please." And his whole body shudders, a ripple from his scalp to his toes, and he presses his forehead to Harry's and says, "Yes."

It kind of disgusts him how easily he gets off on this. But he does anyway.


End file.
